Community Participation Week #2
Our community participation continues this week, with more messages about Elie Wiesel’s impact in the lives of so many.
#1 Sonari Glinton, Business Desk Correspondent at NPR West, penned this thoughtful and moving piece about his professor Elie Wiesel following his passing. Read his NPR piece here: http://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2016/07/14/484558040/forgetting-isnt-healing-lessons-from-elie-wiesel
#2 Ariel Burger served as Professor Wiesel’s teaching fellow here at BU from 2003 to 2008. Upon hearing of his passing Burger wrote a moving tribute to Wiesel and spoke of their last meeting together. Read his piece here: http://forward.com/opinion/344194/my-last-meeting-with-elie-wiesel/
#3 Prem Krishna Gongaju, Student Life Advisor at the Louisiana School for Math, Science, and the Arts and former student of Wiesel. “Professor Elie Wiesel was my teacher, my mentor during my 3-year study at Boston University School of Theology. I sat at his feet in his Literature of Memory classes, learning to take baby steps upon the ashes and embers of Auschwitz stoked by the searing memory of this man, the Lazarus of our history and humanity; I sat at his soot-stained feet overwhelmed by the stench of human depravity, and I was overjoyed by the bouquet of extraordinary hope exuding from his Hasidic soul. He was gentle, he was kind, he was caring. And a sage. His sublime words nudged the slumbering students to a slow awakening to the past, what’s happening at present, and an informed glimpse into what is to come in this world of human/inhuman affairs. His voice was soothing and reassuring. His delivery of message was achieved effortlessly, without strain in his voice and constraint of his conscience. His was a small, still voice, a sort of suspiration from among the reeds stirred by the flaming flurry of recollection by the riverbed of memory. He taught us to keep the river of memory from turning into the Lethe by man’s apathy and indifference. His face. The whole world knows his face: a face furrowed by the claws of man’s cruelty to man, a face smeared with sadness and sorrow, and yet a face capable of beaming hopes against hope upon the upturned faces of his students. And to the world. But I never saw him laugh in the classroom. Professor Wiesel occasionally called on me in our Literature of Memory class, which was conducted in a somewhat seminar-like fashion, especially when his deep-set eye noticed me in a quandary due to some conflicting nature of the topic in question, putting me in an enviable position among my fellow classmates, for to be called upon by Prof. Wiesel was considered a mark of honor. On one such rare occasion, I had to coach my statement against the accepted political norm of the State of Israel, on the delicate issue of Palestinian homeland. Thus I coached my question in answer to the question of the lesson of the day, as logically and succinctly as I could at the time: How couldn’t there be a Palestine for the Palestinian? For I am a Nepali because there is Nepal, my homeland. Suddenly, a hush fell over the entire class, and I experienced what perhaps might have been one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life during those milliseconds of silence. Then Prof. Wiesel put me and the entire class at ease by not taking me to task for what might have sounded to my younger classmates as an impudent remark. He was sagacious and kind to address the issue in question by delineating the principle of separating the Jewish and Palestinian humanity from the school of prevailing political thoughts as well as the Israeli Government’s stance. To my mind, he thus bore witness to the suffering of the Palestinians sans Palestine. One occasion in particular stands out from among the rest of my teacher-student relatedness with Prof. Wiesel. I had given a satchel full of his books to be made holy by his autograph to his then secretary, Ms. Martha. After a few days she had me make an appointment with Prof. Wiesel for retrieving the said books from his office, and also for a brief tete-a-tete, which he occasioned in order to get to know his students, individually.
Our visit went swimmingly well at first. Handing me back my satchel, he offered to gift me any and all of his books in the future, with a gentle wave of his hand toward the two towering bookcases bulging with his tomes. My joy knew no bounds at his generous offer, for I loved books more than bread. Then I remembered something. During the course of his sharing an anecdote, both poignant and humorous, with the students, he touched on his lean days as a roving reporter. This event occurred in one of the airports in India. He and this Indian gentleman happened to strike up a conversation while waiting to catch their respective flights. At the end of a long confabulation, the Indian gentleman handed him a card with a personal note, who, as luck would have it, turned out to be none other than a big executive officer of a certain airline corporation. Because of the telling instruction on the note, Prof. Wiesel noted with a muted but rare chuckle, he could fly in and out of India on that airline anytime–free of charge. However, in his very next breath he added, “But I flew only when I was hungry.” And I was happy to know later that he got to see Kathmandu, my hometown, on one of his famished flights. Then he touched on something to the class, a salient point of which had been stuck in my craw ever since, but which would remain unsaid in public for the rest of my life. It’s strictly between a teacher and his pupil. After I revealed what was on my mind, Prof. Wiesel got up and so did I. We both slowly fell into each other’s embrace. And we sobbed. Elie Wiesel’s name is writ upon the linings of my lungs. I will remember my teacher as long as I live. And I will never forget his teachings: “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.” And “To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.”
#4 Senator Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts. “Elie Wiesel led by example, both in words and in deeds. When he accepted the Nobel Peace Prize, he “swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation,” that “we must always take sides” when faced with injustice, and that “neutrality helps the oppressor” and “silence encourages the tormentor.” Professor Wiesel taught us that we must unequivocally stand up to racism, bigotry, and hate because they are an assault on our collective humanity. He emerged from the pain and suffering that he endured during the Holocaust to inspire us to choose hope over fear, action over indifference, and unity over division. I reflected on the life and work of Elie Wiesel when I visited Yad Vashem, where I wept as I looked up at the faces of the victims of the Holocaust. That powerful moment underscored the need to vigorously combat anti-Semitism. Today, we must be true to Professor Wiesel’s memory and never abandon our responsibility to confront hate in all its forms. Elie Wiesel’s legacy commands us to work tirelessly to bridge our divides and to bring people together, and I will forever be humbled by his extraordinary work and teachings.”
#5 Dr. Menachem Rosensaft, Columbia University Law professor and founding chairman of the International Network of Children of Jewish Holocaust Survivors, grew up with Professor Wiesel as a friend and mentor. Read his tribute to him here: http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-news-and-politics/206702/remembering-elie-wiesel-a-tribute-from-a-friend-and-disciple